lament in ashes

( note: this post written 8-29-25, edited 9-12-25)

______________

Dear God!

Our culture is dying, at war with ourselves:

sexually confused, mentally ill, morally bankrupt.

We distract ourselves with screens,

numbed by mindless scrolling

as families disintegrate, babies are unwanted,

school children shot, teens die by suicide,

immigrants are assaulted, and

truth-speakers assassinated.

We no longer recognize our real enemy but

the serpent has many heads; inflicting multi-

faceted poison of evil as addictions enslave us.

How far will we go to break with reality? to

celebrate violence? to deny the Truth?

Who will save us if God has left the

premises because we escorted Him out?

O LORD, have mercy!

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“If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.”

(2 Chronicles 7:14)

dogged obedience for crumbs

Lord, sometimes we just don’t understand
the mysterious ways you treat your children:
Abraham asked to sacrifice son of promise
Joseph jailed in Egypt for misjudged morals
Moses not allowed to enter promised land
Hosea told to marry an unfaithful prostitute
Zechariah murdered inside temple courts.

life can seem cruel and unfair in its dealings
as some people struggle disproportionately
do you stop your ears and turn your back?
sometimes your children suffer through no
sin of their own but because of others’ lies
we expect justice to prevail but if it doesn’t
can we believe you are sovereign over all?

try hard to quiet our questions and doubts
but sometimes we voice laments out loud
and, like Job, dare interrogate God of the
universe; human clay complains to potter.
we fall at your feet, cry hot tears, and rise
with hope in our hearts to bear burden of
doubt until your holy kingdom fully comes!

disconnect & despair

whose eyes are windows to the soul
why do dark orbs seem lifeless?
where does one go to find comfort
when look away, turn inward?

cannot escape matrix of mind
confused thoughts circle nowhere
conflicted feelings cloud the heart
consequences prove painful

leave parents; later, spouse and home
lean into self-reliance
learned fear of real intimacy
lest empty self be disclosed

force cannot move one to love or
form friendships deeper than surface
for communication requires
foundational integrity

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Traditional Mongolian Meter requires quatrains written in lines of 7 to 8 syllables, each line head-rhymed with alliteration being a prominent element of the form. Grace at dVerse explains a head-rhyme as being “the first consonant of each line matching.

a time for lament

 

spirits sag sluggish

our attitudes apathetic

people lie dying but we

are numbed by numbers

so we adjust our masks

try to control catastrophe

normalize the abnormal

turn off doom of news

cannot shut out reality

of one’s own mortality

seems life is too short to

realize all our dreams

of apocalyptic nightmare

social events cancel

celebrations zoom in

at least we can distract

ourselves with technology:

mind games of (anti)social

media, victims of porn

big bureaucracy grows

as the economy slows

churches shut down

yet abortion services

considered essential

we truly are sick

 

 

 

 

daughter she never knew

 

desperate now

no real choice

no viable option

he’d already left her

she birthed other babies

what else could she do

but have child removed?

…the one she’d never celebrate

 


Abortion is a tragedy to grieve, not an occasion to celebrate. Author Leslie Leyland Fields writes an open, compassionate letter to “celebrants” of abortion here.

lament for erica anne

5c20f984e8202.image

 

hear our anguished cries, O God!
why do the loveliest ones die young?

she had her daddy’s perceptive eyes
that saw beyond this world’s pretense;

she had her mother’s tender heart
that loved beyond this world’s ache.

Erica belonged to a better, purer world.

depression’s demons
pushed her till she fell,
desperate to escape.

her mortal body broken but
her timeless spirit caught in
arms of compassion
and carried home,

like lost lamb on gentle
Shepherd’s shoulders…

Lord, carry us in our grief!

 

 


For my friend and family who lost their sweet daughter/sister. Read Erica’s obituary here.

sabbath lament

In sympathy with families of Jewish victims at Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh

 

worshipers struck down—

husband/wife
brothers
doctor

how long, O Lord?

 

madman with weapons—

radicalized
paranoid
hateful

how long, O Lord?

 

anti-semitic violence—

old testament
middle ages
world war

how long, O Lord?

 

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“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…”    (Psalm 34:18a)

 

 

name on a wall

 
prime manhood pressed

slender, young and brave

army air force wwII battalion

brought down near new guinea

their one son and only child

lies still in forest lawn
 
 

img_1813
 

 
 My father’s cousin, Vernon, son of Ben & Hilda of Bellflower CA;  whose name I discovered on a memorial wall in the Veteran’s Museum of Branson MO.

light snuffed out

A poem of lament, in shape of candlestick, dedicated to family of Lukas Monsma

young voice sings to guitar
sweet, yet haunting
oh, my son, I can
hear your song
on the wind

memories
don’t leave us
alone in the dark
nearly pull us apart
by plucked heart strings
strumming addicted to grief
cold, thin, mountain air
stealing our breath
mingles yours
high in sky

i’m sorry for
what was unsaid
life hangs by a thread
as we still wait for you to
turn around and come home

 

 

…and sharing music by David Nevue, “Under a Cloud” and “The Long Regret”